


With Extra Marshmallows

by Parttimesloth



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, are you squeaking with me, bellarke and fluff make me a hapy fangirl, colege roomies but also a couple, i have become addicted and obssessed, i simply cant stop, just imagine the cuddly bunnies, written in the middle of the night because the picture was too cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:00:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parttimesloth/pseuds/Parttimesloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Bellamy''s occasional kisses and the feel of his calloused fingers in her messy curls that comfort Clarke after a particularly rough day at work</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Extra Marshmallows

**Author's Note:**

> So of course I had to see this prompt on tumblr and fix up a quick oneshot until 3 a.m. on a school night. The picture was just too perfect not to write, so of course sleeping was the wrong option when all I could think about was the cuteness. Anyway, here we go.

Bellamy is currently laying horizontally, one hand behind his head resting on a purple pillow, feet propped on the cuff of the couch in his living room, which became _theirs_ about a year ago. It’s safe to say “it was about damn time,” precisely in Octavia’s words, to make it official since they indeed had been going out for 10 months (not that he had been counting) and Clarke practically had been living with Bellamy for a while. She already had a key to his place so that she could let herself in whenever he had been stuck studying in the library. Half of his wardrobe had consisted of her underwear, skirts, jeans, and coats; his dresser had been filled with her makeup material and hairbands. She had her own toothbrush, her own shampoo and conditioner since his place had been much closer to the building Clarke had been taking her graduate classes in. Bellamy had even let her place the toilet paper with its end sticking out backwards. They had been _that_ serious. They _are_ that serious.

 

He’s still reading his assigned sociology book, a brilliant study on the rise and spread of Christianity in the Roman Empire, when he hears rattling of keys outside the door and few failed attempts to unlock it followed by a _fuck_ and _just open you damn thing._ Just as he’s about to get up, the door finally opens. A very flustered looking Clarke throws herself inside, shuts it behind her in a quick motion, leans on the wood, throws her head back, closes her eyes and lets out a huge sigh in relief. Since the door leads directly to the living room, and since the couch is placed right across, Bellamy can lie comfortably and still take in the view as long as he peers over. Her clothes are wrinkled and her shoelaces are untied. Many rebellious tangles sprout outward from her messed up bun and fall down to her eyes. Her makeup is smeared all over her cheeks and dark circles have taken residence under her sunken eyes. And although the picture in front him is just sad, Bellamy can’t help but smile at her passion, how she’s the all-in-or-all-out kind of person – even if the late night studies and the shifts at the hospital leave her looking like a resurrected zombie half the time she’s at home. 

 

“Hey princess how was your –

Before he can finish, Clarke waves her hand dismissively without saying a word and hurries to their bedroom. So he returns to chapter _Urban Chaos and Crisis: The Case of Antioch._ Just as he flips to the next page, fast and loud thumps echo throughout the hallway and Clarke falls on top of him before he even registers the movement.

From then on, for few minutes, it’s mostly Bellamy keeping still, breathing through Clarke’s now long, disheveled blonde curls, huffing out a few tangles that manage to get in his mouth, holding his huge black reading glasses with one hand so they don’t break, trying to at least save his book, which is being squished underneath her enormous breasts, and waiting for Clarke, who is laid out like he’s a king size bed and is most probably dead. After what feels like an eternity, though, she mumbles something incoherent – _hate my life? –_ into his chest and rolls to her side. Only then is he able realize she has changed and is now wearing fuzzy socks with countless Rudolphs on them, a pair of dark green sweatpants, and his baggy red Northwestern sweatshirt that to be honest became hers since she only gives it to him –“I don’t want you to spill pasta on my precious”) – after it’s washed so it smells like him –“So sue me if I prefer your aftershave to the lame rosey scent which, by the way, _you_ picked – when she wears it around the house. Not that he actuallyminds when she does.

 

“Already in the Christmas spirit I see.”

“Fuck off Bell.”

 

Okay, he knows she’s in a bad place right now.

That doesn’t stop him from laughing though.

“Love it when you talk sweet to me princess.”

 

And yeah maybe he’s a bad boyfriend, but Bellamy’s still grinning when he snakes an arm around her waist from underneath to pull her closer to his warm body and stuffs a pillow on his shoulder with the other. He waits until Clarke is comfortable in the position – legs entangled and her resting her head in the crook of his neck –before continuing his reading. Clarke absentmindedly plays with the strings on her (his) hoodie, and when she starts stroking his neck with them Bellamy stuffs them in her mouth, because she knows he’s ticklish, okay? Yet he still runs his calloused fingers along her golden locks, feeling the silk against his rough edges, and drops random kisses on her temple because he’s aware she had a though day and needs the comfort, even though she will burn in all nine circles of hell before she admits it.

 

_A primary cause of low fertility in the Greco-roman world was a male culture that held arriage in low esteem. In 131 B.C.E the Roman censor Quintus Caecilious proposed that the senate make marriage compulsory because –_

“I’m dropping out of med school.” 

“No you’re not. You love med school.”

_The senate make marriage compulsory because so many men, especially in the upper classes, preferred to stay single. Acknowledging that –_

“The resident is a racist misogynist who has decided his sole mission in life is to humiliate me until I cower in an on-call room.”

“So don’t. You love a challenge, anyway. Remember the douche in the lecture hall?”

“Yeah, I –

“Kicked his ass. Well his nuts, to be exact. ” 

“Yeah. That was a good day.”

_Acknowledging ‘that we cannot have a really harmonious life with our wives,’ the censor pointed out that since ‘we cannot have any sort of life without them,’ the long term –_

“You look like a nerd in those glasses.” 

“I know. That’s why you bought them.”

 

_The long term of the welfare must be served. More than a century later Augustus quoted this passage to the senate to justify his own legislation on behalf of –_

“Will it always be this bad?” 

“Sometimes. But often you’ll get to see the spark of gratitude in the families of the one’s you saved.”

 

 _On behalf of marriage, and it was not greeted with any greater enthusiasm the second time around. For the fact was –_  

“I didn’t know you were listening when I told you that.” 

“I’m always listening, princess.”

_For the fact was that men in the Greco-Roman world found it difficult to relate to women. As Beryl Rawson has reported, ‘one theme that recurs in Latin Literature is that wives are difficult and therefore men do not care for marriage.’ Although virginity was demanded of brides, and chastity of wives, men tended to be quite promiscuous and –_

“I think I’m okay now.” 

“You want some hot coco with cinnamon sprinkles?” 

“With extra marshmallows?” 

“With extra marshmallows.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it guys!I just had to get that one off my chest. Come find me on [tumblr](http://bellandtheprincess.tumblr.com/) if you want xx


End file.
